The Tarkheena and Her Boy
by Andarte
Summary: In the aftermath of TH&HB, Aravis and Cor struggle to adjust to life in Anvard. Shows the development of the couple from childhood friends to man and wife. Oneshot.


_For months now I have had a bit of a writer's block due to personal events and have left the other story I'd been in the middle of on hold for some time. Every time I sat down to write I found myself unable to concentrate and no matter how hard I tried the words simply refused to come. This morning, however, after being up all night for no particular reason, I felt myself suddenly inspired for this particular story. A stark contrast to the writer's block, I sat down at my computer and after about an hour and a half of frenzied typing had it practically finished._

_I've always been a fan of Chronicles of Narnia, it was my first introduction to the fantasy genre and The Horse and His Boy specifically is very dear to me. The character of Aravis was one I always admired, though as a ten year old girl reading it for the first time I certainly didn't view her and Shasta quite the way I do now._

_I think the only reason I hadn't written Narnia fanfiction before was that it seemed, and still does seem, near heresy to one who holds the books in such high esteem. The adult nature of my writings specifically seemed perhaps inappropriate. However I do believe that the Narnia books were written as much for adults as for children, and I think the continuation of Aravis and Shasta's story is something very worthwhile._

_On that note, I hope you enjoy this story and if you find it even halfway worthy of the Narnia books then I will be very much satisfied._

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**The Tarkheena and Her Boy**

**Year 1008: **_In Which The Eyes Of A Goddess Fall On A Young Tarkheena_

A small, dark haired and bright eyed girl knelt hesitantly before a tall, sleek statue. In the cold, black stone of the statue was carved a magnificent Huntress. It was the goddess Zardeenah whom it was the duty of all young girls to serve.

This particular girl had just reached her eighth year and completed her training in the ways of the Huntress. From that night until the night of her wedding, she was under solemn oath to fulfill the proper rights and obey the customs of Zardeenah. It was to Zardeenah the Huntress that she belonged, body and soul, until the goddess claimed her as priestess or chose to entrust her into the arms of another.

In the shadows of that place, maiden priestesses watched with interest as the young Aravis prayed in earnest at the altar. Aravis' lips moved rapidly as she spoke the words of her heart to the goddess she served. She had taken immediately to her training, and the priestesses wondered if maybe Aravis was being called by Zardeenah to serve as a priestess in a few years. They knew, however, that it would not be permitted for a Tarkheena to heed that call. To take on the robes of a priestess would be to give up the chance of a political union with which her father the Tarkaan might gain a more honorable standing. For a woman of noble birth, the gain of more honor for her family was the highest and only calling that mattered.

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**Year 1014:**_ In Which Prince Cor Returned To Save Archenland_

"Aslan," the dark skinned girl asked hesitantly. "You have said in the past that you tell people no story but their own. Could you… I mean… would you… will you tell me if the gods of my country are real?"

"Real, daughter?" asked the Lion gravely.

Aravis bit her lip thoughtfully. "That is to say… do they exist? Are they beings that are living and have power over this world? Or was the teachings I was made to learn as a child a waste? That question has been bothering me since I came to live in Archenland. I cannot entirely forget that I am a Tarkheena of Calormen, and yet I would not waste my time in the worship of that which is nonexistent. Worse, if they are real but are demons, as I once heard the Calormene say of you."

Lions do not smile, if indeed they are capable of such. But in that moment their seemed a gleam of amusement in Aslan's eyes, and if they could be said to smile then that may well have been what he was doing. "My daughter, they are not the sort of gods as what Narnians may consider me. For we rule over different people, and are ourselves of a different nature. But I would not say that they are not real, for they do exist as truly as you or I. As to demons, you must yourself be the judge of that given what you have seen of them."

"Would it be wrong, then, if I obeyed the religious rites and practices that I was raised to observe?"

"No, daughter, not if your heart tells you that it is right for you to do so. Just be careful that you keep your eyes open, and do not observe them witlessly as so many who worship gods."

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**Year 1017: **_In Which The Will Of A Calormene Goddess And The Narnian Creator Coincide_

For three years, Aravis had dwelt at the palace in Anvard, capital city of Archenland. Never had her life been so happy as it was in those days, and she found herself over that time growing more and more attached to the people she knew there.

King Lune was a jolly man, but for all that he was boisterous and joking for much of the time, still he was a sensitive and observant man. In him she found the father she had long wished for, the father her own had come so close to being and yet fallen just short of proving himself. Prince Corin could always be depended on to defend a girl's honor, as he was quite happy for any opportunity to knock someone down. His company was quite welcome to Aravis on those days when she missed her own brother badly.

Her feelings for Prince Cor were never quite so simple. To her he would always be Shasta, the boy she travelled with through Calormen, and who leapt from the back of Bree to come to her rescue when she was being attacked by a lion. She still felt sharp pangs of shame at times, remembering how in those short moments her eyes had begun to see the valor he possessed.

The problem was that he was no longer a boy. He had grown taller, broad shouldered and strong. His face appeared now more chiseled and his features quite handsome. The fair hair which as Shasta had been ragged and tangled more often than not, was now as Prince Cor kept cut fairly short, with only enough length that Aravis often heard the younger ladies of court commenting on what it would be like to bury their fingers in it.

Those comments made her often quite angry, though she didn't fully understand why, and then she would have to try rather hard to remember that she was a Lady, and a Tarkheena at that, and could not go "knocking people down" as if she were Corin.

Several older members of court would notice Aravis' reaction to this, and their expressions would be full of amusement. They never said a word, however, knowing that the dark skinned Tarkheena had a quick temper and was not eager to admit what was clear to everyone else.

Controlling her temper had never been particularly easy for her, and it came to pass that Aravis began to boil over at the simplest of things. Her fingers itched to hold the blade she had worn during her travels through Calormen, and to feel the comforting weight of her brother's armor. She didn't mean to fall into such interests, but it wasn't long before she began seeking out Archenland's weapons masters in secret to learn what they might teach her.

It was a secret that everyone knew. None spoke of it, not sure whether the King approved or if Aravis herself would tolerate comment. Still, on those nights when dusk fell in silence and then the clatter of weapons began, it was easy to guess what was going on.

Never being one to care overly much for fine clothes or take all day on her appearance, Aravis didn't quite notice the other eyes that were on her. For she too had gained a few more inches, and though she remained quite slender, her body had filled out in graceful curves that the younger men at court could hardly help but notice. Her black hair and dark eyes looked exotic in contrast to the fair skinned and light haired women that were commonplace in Archenland, and her tanned skin glowed and looked so supple and beautiful that they could not help but want to run their hands all over it.

This, at times, made Cor quite angry, but as he knew that he regarded her as a sister and she would eventually be wed he tried very hard to restrain his temper. It was not so much that he wasn't allowed to knock people down, though it wasn't exactly suited for the prince that would be king one day, but he knew that he wasn't quite so good at it as his brother and hardly wanted to be made a fool of in front of her. This was especially the case since on more than one occasion it was his brother that he caught staring at her, and their fights always seemed to end in Cor getting knocked down. His father, for some reason, always seemed to laugh at his irritation, but Cor couldn't understand quite what was so funny about it all.

Where Aravis buried her confusion in the peaceful exhaustion her training provided, Cor buried it in his own studies. The writing, heraldry, and other subjects he had once dreaded now became his escape. It was easy to push the tangled emotions to the back of his mind when the forefront was focused on an immediate question in his studies.

Their subconscious had chosen the blissfulness of ignorance, and neither wished to delve further into the matter if they could help it. What is clear to one person often quite eludes another, and as it was there were two people at court in Archenland who were very much oblivious to what was plain as day for all the rest.

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One bright and cheery morning Aravis woke in a particularly bad mood, much to the dismay of everyone else. What they did not realize, for she had never really mentioned to anyone the day of her birth, was that on that particular morning she was seventeen years of age.

In Archenland she was viewed as quite a young Lady, hardly without prospects or short of any time, but in her home of Calormen it was another matter. The way Aravis had been raised all noblewomen were married by seventeen. Indeed, she had been engaged at the age of thirteen and spent a good deal of that year in escape. That she was not yet even engaged to be married now would be seen as the greatest embarrassment by her family, and she herself had not quite gotten over her Calormene upbringing.

So she went through her day quite displeased with everything. Through breakfast she only picked at her food, and could scarcely summon a smile as Corin told her the latest story about how he knocked Cor down. Cor was repeatedly asking her if she was quite alright, until finally she became so irritated with him that they started quarreling. The rest of the table started smiling and giggling softly until both Aravis and Cor shot them looks that would kill if looks could do such things. Not that it ended there, for they immediately began again where they had left off and did not cease quarreling until they had left the breakfast table.

As the day progressed, Aravis became more and more dissatisfied. The conversation she'd last had with Aslan, before his departure from Anvard those three years ago, was running repeatedly through her head. It was one of those things you filed away in the back of your mind until you simply could ignore it no longer. And really, Aravis found she was tired of trying.

That night, after all the rest seemed to have gone to bed, Aravis rose from her bed and hastily threw on some closed and grabbed the bag she'd prepared earlier that afternoon. Sneaking out to the stables, she saddled a horse and led it outside. There was none there but a guard, who knew better than speak against it when the Lady Aravis declared herself unable to sleep and wishing a nighttime ride.

It was not unlike that night almost four years past that she had departed in despair from her father's home in Calavar with Hwin. Except this time she was not intent on taking her own life, but in getting answers.

Once she had a found a quiet, peaceful place well into the forest, Aravis tied the horse's reins to a nearby tree and began searching through her bag. She started a fire to keep herself warm and took out certain herbs with which she had been taught it was proper to honor the gods. When all was ready, and her body calm, Aravis began the rites to speak with Zardeenah.

"Hear your daughter, Lady of the Night," said Aravis in the same even, strong tone with which she had related her tale to Bree and Cor at their first meeting. "I am Aravis Tarkheena, daughter of Kidrash Tarkaan, descended in the right line from Tash. The sun has appeared dark in my eyes, and I come before you in search of your guidance. I have lived long in this land, under the protection of the god Aslan, but I have not forgotten the Lady Zardeenah to whom I am entrusted while I remain a maiden.

"Dearest Lady, I beg that you look kindly on your humble daughter and send to me some sign of your will. What am I to do of my current situation? For it is not fitting that a Tarkheena should go so long unwed, and yet here I have no father by whom these decisions can be made. I took that decision into my hands long ago, and so it seems the decision will remain. But I am an inexperienced girl and I have not your great wisdom to draw upon. Hear your daughter, Zardeenah, and show me your will."

It was not, perhaps, spoken quite as it should be. For Aravis had been long from her home and the teachings of the priests and priestesses of Calormen. It was heartfelt, however, and Aravis knew that if Zardeenah was listening at all right now, that she would hear her words and perhaps show her favor.

She was not kept waiting.

The presence of Zardeenah was not at all like the presence of Aslan. For he appeared real before you, a Great Lion that you could touch and feel the realness of. But as Aravis sat there, staring in the flames of the fire before her, strange shadows began dancing around her and the scent of exotic spices filled the air. She heard a voice in her mind, as though it was a whisper carried by the wind, and it spoke lovingly and gently to her. "Favored Daughter, I hear your prayer. You have not dwelt forgotten in your Northern home. For it was not just the will of Aslan, but my will also, that fate should bring you there. You were not meant for an old Tarkaan, but to live happily as the wife of a Northern husband who could cherish you as you deserve. Did I not give the horse Hwin the words with which to speak and persuade you? Did I not move the heart of the Tarkheena Lasaraleen to aid you in your escape? And have I not graced you with a beauty that brings all the men of that northern land to your feet? Your very life has been defended by the man you were meant for, and yet you have ignored him. You have resigned him to the role of brother when he was meant to be more. You hate those at court who see him for the treasure he is, but it is a treasure your eyes refuse to see while at the same time you guard as a Dragon does its jewels.

"You are no longer to be a maiden, and no longer will be under my care. This is the last and only time you shall hear my words, but do not doubt I have loved you.

"Open your eyes, for your heart tells you what is right for you to do. Accept the gift the gods have laid before you."

Near the end Aravis began to shake, tears filling her eyes and her heart pounding. It is always an experience to come before a god, to feel their presence. But to hear the goddess' words, she was overcome.

A twig snapped behind her, and Aravis turned her head abruptly to see who had joined her here. A cloaked figure stood in the shadows, but the light of the fire revealed the golden hair of one she knew well.

"Cor…" she said, her voice scarcely cooperating.

"Aravis," he said, walking forward towards her. "What are you doing?"

"I… I…" Aravis found herself unsure what to say. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear herself. "I needed to get away, to think."

Cor knelt beside her, taking off his cloak and putting it around her shoulders. "I was afraid… when I was out for a walk the guard told me you had left for a ride, and I was afraid you were leaving us to return to Calormen. Or worse, that you wished to carry out that which Hwin had stopped you from doing before our coming here. You seemed so unhappy today. Like there was a great weight upon your shoulders. Yet you would not tell me of it."

"Today was my birthday," she said simply.

"Your birthday?" asked Cor in surprise. "And yet it comes to my attention that I have never known your birthday, and it does me no credit that these three years have passed without my having thought of it. I do not understand, though, why your birthday should be a time of sadness for you."

"Do you remember that night when I told you and Bree my tale?" she asked slowly. "When he told you that the daughters of noble families are always married young?"

"I do."

"Today I turned seventeen. In Calormen, that is the day that marks the end of a noble woman's youth. It is by seventeen that all girls must be wed or are considered spinsters. And such is a fate ill thought of by others. It would disgrace my family if such a thing were known, even though I am far away in Archenland."

"You wish to be married?" asked Cor, his jaws clenching oddly as though the thought disturbed him.

There was another thought that had been growing in Aravis' mind, the more her mind cleared from the presence of Zardeenah. It was as though the goddess' words were finally sinking in, and her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her. She had been blind not to see what had been given her. Indeed, it had very much been laid as a gift at her feet just as the Lady of the Night had described. Her hand reached up and touched the side of Cor's face to comfort him, dropping down a moment later and slowly following the line of his arm. She felt the muscles tense before her fingers, and she then hated the fabric between their skin.

"I don't know," she said. "Before now I suppose it wasn't so much that I wished to be married as it was that I feared the disgrace I knew I ought to feel."

"And now?" asked Cor hesitantly, his face inches from her own for his body had unbeknownst to him began leaning forward into her touch.

"Now I see what had so long eluded me. Why I got so angry when the other young ladies at court would stare at you and talk amongst themselves. Why I'd be furious to hear them say how handsome you were, and how lucky the woman would be who would marry you. How they wished to touch you."

His fair skin began to look flushed, and his eyes grew bright. "I was not aware they said such things. Why did it bother you?"

Aravis bit her lip nervously, hesitating to say what she was thinking least he laugh and make fun of her. "Because I want to."

"Want to what?" he asked, his hand reaching up and lifting her chin so that she could not look away from him without effort.

There were a great many things she could have said. And given what she did say, things that would have been a good deal more subtle and less inappropriate. But in that moment she found that the words just spilled out, as if she had no control of her own tongue. "I want to touch you."

What happened in that next instant she wasn't quite sure, because the next thing she knew the cloak had fallen off her shoulders onto the ground behind her, and she was being kissed by the eager and rather unrelenting lips of the man before her. Thought seemed rather difficult to manage at that moment, and so she stopped trying. Aravis raised her hand and ran it through his hair as she had so often heard the other ladies speak of, and in fact wanted to do herself. Her other hand found itself on his body, running her fingers lightly down his shoulders and then across his chest a bit before sliding down his arm and pulling him closer towards her.

At that slight encouragement Cor increased his efforts, beginning to pull her towards him but then deciding to lay her back instead. She fell back against the cloak as Cor hovered over her, his hands travelling fervently along the curves of her body and his lips demanding against her own. "You're mine, Aravis," he mumbled forcefully before returning to kissing her. But this time his lips travelled down to her neck and his hands became more insistent as they put new purpose to the feelings that had before been channeled into arguing.

It was nearly dawn before they broke apart, lips swollen and clothing disheveled. They did not want to stop, except that they knew they would be missed soon and hardly wanted to be found in such a state. After putting out the fire that had continued to burn steadily beside them, Aravis picked up the rest of her things and they mounted her horse with her riding in front and Cor behind her with one arm curved around her waist. Few were awake when they rode back into the city under the last shadows of night, but those who were beginning their daily tasks looked up from their work in surprised looks and satisfied smiles.

Not the least satisfied was King Lune, who Cor promptly spoke with following breakfast about the decision he'd been coming to in his mind that morning while he'd had Aravis pinned beneath him. That decision being that he couldn't bear the thought of any other man touching her, or ever being without her, and so he concluded that the best thing would be for them to be married at once. If he had expected any hesitation from his father then he found himself greatly surprised, for Lune gave a jolly laugh and said only "Took you long enough, my boy."

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I wish I could say that they had a grand wedding, but this would not be true. For, as they had been quick in their decisions to leave Calormen for the North, so too were they quick in their decision to marry. There would be time enough for feasting later, they said, but for now there was no reason to delay. And it was a very convenient thing to say that it was only for her upbringing that they were hasty, as it would not do for a woman to go long seventeen and unwed.

So it was not three days later that they said their vows and Cor carried Aravis off to their new chambers which had been prepared hastily for them. It was an apartment of several rooms, quite off from the rest of the castle and away from prying eyes. For no one in such a happy place as Archenland was entirely unaware of the joys of being newlyweds, and all wished the young couple well for they had very much been hoping Aravis would become their queen. She was a great lady in their eyes, having braved the long journey from Calavar and aided their lost prince in his return.

And it was with great happiness that Aravis finally wrote to her father, to whom she had not spoken since her arrival in Archenland.

_Dearest Father,_

_I hope that this letter finds you in good health and spirits, and my younger brother likewise well. I'm sorry that I have no written you since my arrival, but in truth there was nothing of great interest to tell. It is with greatest joy, however, that I write to tell you of my marriage to Cor of Archenland. It is with him, if you recall, that I travelled here three years ago, and with his family that I have stayed since. I'm sorry that I could not inform you in time for you to visit us for the wedding feasts, but I do hope you will find yourself able to visit at some time soon and see the country over which my husband will one day be king._

_Ever your most loving daughter,_

_Aravis_

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It is most likely for the best that the wedding feasts did not immediately follow the wedding, for in the days thereafter Cor and Aravis had a very hard time keeping their hands off one another. And that was if they managed to leave their room at all.

Following the wedding, they had retreated as quickly as they were able to their rooms with the same sense of urgency they had felt that night in the forest. Before they had quite made it to their bed, a rather large and luxurious thing that took up a good deal of the room, they had their shoes off and Cor was hastily unfastening Aravis' dress while she was trying very hard to pull Cor's shirt off him.

How they had restrained themselves in the forest they weren't quite sure, but they made up for that in lack of restraint now. Clothing was quickly dealt with so that they might feel only the warm flesh of the other on the cool sheets of the bed they lay on.

It was the first time Cor had ever seen Aravis' hair down since their days on the run, and it fell in jet black waves over her shoulders and down to her waist. Her skin was not particularly dark as compared to other Calormene, but nevertheless it was darker than Cor's and it had a sort of color that looked as though it had been kissed by the sun to perfection.

The awkward times they had spent in the woods the night they'd discovered their mutual feelings were quickly replaced with more urgent thoughts and actions as husband and wife.

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_"Aravis also had many quarrels (and, I'm afraid, even fights) with Cor, but they always made it up again: so that years later, when they were grown up, they were so used to quarrelling and making it up again that they got married so as to go on doing it more conveniently. And after King Lune's death they made a good King and Queen of Archenland and Ram the Great, the most famous of all the kings of Archenland, was their son."_

- C. S. Lewis' _The Horse and His Boy_


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